Chapter 2 – Small Castles
(Sc. 1)
It was so sudden that he doesn't understand how things can progress from calm to panic in a blink of an eye.
Roger Anderson is one of the new drivers for the Spencer Family. Currently in his mid-20s, he had skipped college, met the girl of his dreams, moved in with her and lost her to a gang of perverted teens. A case that hasn't been solved until now and it has been three years. He thought he would work hard and figure something out. In his darkest dreams, he would turn into a powerful, acrobatic vigilante and hunt down those culprits.
But tonight, after believing that he would be able to get an early night off since all the Spencer family members are out of the country, he finds himself passing through Sunnyside, Queens to take his master's sole heir safely back home. And now, this stupid-looking girl hugging a small white puppy in front of the limo has almost jeopardized it.
His foot firm and flat on the brake, Roger quickly opens the privacy window and asks, almost out of breath, "Are you okay, Mr. Spencer? This girl just sprung up from nowhere and-and-ah, sir? "
(Sc. 2)
"I don't know how to thank you, Briony!" the little pale-skinned girl says as she secures her puppy in her arms and Briony joins her on the sidewalk.
"Don't worry about it, Jane," she assures her as she gently taps Jane's tiny head and sits on her heels so that she's now at the same level as the kid. "I think he got too excited about making new friends in his new home, even with those that are not from…his kind, you know."
She realizes then it was stupid to tell Jane that cats and dogs could be naturally friends. [She's 12! Well, unless that cat and dog grew up under the same roof, why not? Will never be my case, though, with people like that. Those people and their limousines… The driver didn't even get out to see if I was still whole and breathing!]
"I almost lost you, Clover!" teary-eyed and still shaking a little, Jane kisses her puppy's forehead. "Oh, and Briony? Clover here is a she."
"Oh, really?" Briony lifts the puppy's left hind leg a little. Grinning, "Oh, yeah, sorry!"
Jane giggles, adding, "I just got her today."
"Wow… And her name is Clover… It's a beautiful name."
"Wait here, Bry, just a sec," as she hurriedly hands Clover over to Briony and then scurries back into their flower shop. When she returns after a few seconds, she's holding four yellow roses, which she gives to her puppy's rescuer in exchange of Clover.
"Oh, Jane… They're pretty! Wait, how much are these?"
"Noh prohbrem," a heavy yet funny voice comes out from the shop's doorway.
Briony looks up and sees a man, probably in his late 40s, standing by the shop's doorway with a pallid, wrinkly, square-shaped face, a pair of narrow, almond eyes as well and thin lips. "Oh, good evening, Mr. Urimoto," as Briony stands up to quickly execute a bow of respect.
After Mr. Urimoto does the same, he responds with, "Heart izi good, furenship izi furee." And in the next second, the flower shop owner Mr. Urimoto is back inside, leaving Briony somewhat confused.
"Like what dad said, Briony," beaming with approval and excitement, Jane explains. "It's a gift! If it wasn't for you, I could've lost Clover. What you did earlier? You're like the nicest, bravest person I know!"
(Sc. 3)
The Ritz Paris.
Entering one of the hotel's luxurious suites is not uncommon to these three guys. Even back home in New York, and in some other states in their home country, a huge space similar to this is their typical home sweet home.
After his two friends, the last to enter is the one with the dirty blonde short shag and a soft, pointy chin. A delicate heart-shaped face. His stance is the mere definition of a quiet soul. He holds the door open, not completely entering, as he waits for his two other friends find what they came up here to look for.
"Derrick?" the one with the shoulder-length long, layered yet neat, ash blonde hair and a square-shaped face calls. Like a concerned older brother, he storms the suite's bigger bedroom, his gray eyes squinting.
"Ah—Sjon," the quiet guy by the door tries to catch the attention of one of the two…
…the one with the asymmetrically cut light brown hair and whose forehead is creasing now. But this guy heads to the other room in the suite straightaway. It is obvious that he is already getting annoyed. Sjon Wells always is impatient towards Derrick and anything Derrick.
The quiet one called out to his friend because of spotting something quite interesting across the room. He smiles and shakes his head, preferring to remain silent as usual.
"Come on, Derrick," as Sjon leaves the room and intolerantly walks to the other door where Aldryn has proceeded into earlier. "We don't have time for this, it's so late. Aldryn, d'you find him breathing?"
"Nope. He's not here."
The quiet one, still holding the door open, hears his friend Aldryn Bishop, perhaps the most mature of them all as he reminds himself, state it like there's no time to waste. That this is not something bothersome but something to be understood. Mature, indeed.
He, on the other hand, hasn't really given it much of a thought. Things are the way they are. In the next moment, he hears Aldryn walking out of the bedroom followed by Sjon. These two stop in the middle of the lavish living room, looking around, one annoyed and the other worried.
Until finally, Sjon's attention is grabbed by the quiet one's squinting across the room.
"Howard!" Sjon hisses, also impatient when it comes to Howard's oddness. But it makes Aldryn look up at him, too.
"What is it, How?" Aldryn asks curiously but calmly—ever the mature one.
They realize that Howard is smiling at something—something that must be valuable.
"That vase is a state-of-the-art likeness, don't you think?" Howard asks ambiguously.
As soon as the other two friends turn their heads to that piece of decoration, they instantly see a folded piece of paper stuffed into its voluminous bouquet of yellow roses.
Aldryn and Sjon crowd over the letter, with Aldryn plucking it out and unfolding it. It reads…
[Heading back to New York.
Don't worry. The calendar stays the same.
Sjon, you have a week without me, cherish it.
Sanctuaire will see you in two weeks.]
As for Howard Griffin, he finally walks in and closes the finely ornate door behind him.
(Sc. 4)
But more than three thousand miles away from Paris, Derrick Spencer is already safe and sound in a hotel lobby in Manhattan, New York City. He heads straight for the elevator, hoping he's literally invisible to everyone.
It's exactly 11 pm on his wristwatch now which means it's 5 am in Paris.
[I'm sure they're still awake. They must've already figured it out by now. It's just a piece of cake for Howard…]
Derrick arrives in his brightly lit yet intimidating penthouse that is completely adorned with Art Deco designs one would think its interior designer stole a time from the 1920s and stuffed it in there. But the point is, he returns to Upper East Side this year a little too early for school than usual. It was normally a week after the first day that they would be seen arriving at one of the most elite and upper crust private schools in the country which everyone has decidedly dubbed 'The Sanctuaire.'
A weary-looking yet collected man in his 50s, wearing a special kind of business suit with a white bow tie, attends to him right away and effortlessly joins his pace as he walks towards the shiny staircase that looks like it is made of gold.
"See that I'm not disturbed, Martin," he tells the gray-haired butler and then he spots another man just behind Martin in the same bearing, only this one is wearing a traditional business suit and a mysterious aura. Directing his words to this other man, "Not even a phone call from her," Derrick adds.
"As you wish, sir," Martin replies, as he meets his colleague's gaze.
He might look a little sluggish and secretive but it is superficial. Emmanuel is actually a very pleasant old man, Derrick recalls. He knows that deep down but sometimes, he still can't tell. Being her secretary and all. Her most trusted one. He then wonders why Emmanuel is not in London with her. But he dares not ask. He must act like he doesn't care.
Standing before a long flight of stairs, he is ready to go up but cares to pause to tell the butler something first, or maybe to the both of them. Something that will prove he is not someone to be trifled with. Without looking at them two, "Oh yeah, and the driver. I want him fired. Now."
Derrick climbs up the stairs, leaving the two old men temporarily amazed. They have to be quick about their reactions within these ritzy yet lonely walls. No lingering for too long.
"Yes, sir," it's Emmanuel, who replies in a low yet still polite tone. Being the sole heir to a large multinational company, Emmanuel can serve as Derrick's secretary, too.
Translation within the Spencer household: cater to his every whim.
Martin remains silent because struggles like this are nothing new in a Spencer household. He listens as Derrick closes his golden doors behind him.
(Sc. 5)
[You're like the nicest, bravest person I know!]
Briony recalls Jane's words as she walks in a wearily lit hallway that smells of old wood, dust and cheap rent.
As relief hugs her like a good old friend, she finally arrives in front of their door on the third floor; a simple, plain white door with a cheap 'Home Sweet Home' design hanging on it and a few tiny cracks on the paint. But it is sturdy, just like the family that resides behind it. Briony uses her own duplicate to unlock it and, as she gently pushes it open, she knocks while pleasantly yelling out, "Dad, mom… I'm home…"
Composed of her dad, mom, and younger brother Gian, her family cheerfully bombards her with questions one by one like how was work, if she already had dinner and if she had a hard time catching the bus. It is an amicable sight to look at.
[How can I refuse such offer? Seeing them like this every day? I can't turn my back on these guys just because I'm scared. I know I'm no hero. But I would love to be of help. And not just simple help. Oh crap. I don't belong to that school. How did it come to this?!]
[You're like the nicest, bravest person I know!] She searches for Jane's voice in her head again.
[Akin to valiant, Jane? Yeah, why not? I'm going to need that when school starts next week. What's the name? The LCM Preparatory School, right? AKA The Sanctuaire? Well, I just have to stay invisible and I'm good.]
As Briony joins her family's untroubled uproar, answering them each, she closes their sturdy front door behind her.